


Demus

by cal1brations



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Crowley, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 15:51:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19135240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cal1brations/pseuds/cal1brations
Summary: He feels Crowley turn to speak very close to his ear, sounding horribly desperate, "Ask me to stay, then."Aziraphale smiles a knowing, triumphant smile."Would you like to stay the night, my dear Crowley?"





	Demus

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I watched Good Omens and the Ineffable Husbands have stolen me. So I wrote porn.

It's good, it's so good.

Crowley has him crowded up against a wall in the back room of the shop, not forcing him there but rather just trying to maintain some degree of closeness that doesn't seem to be enough, never enough between them. Crowley is kissing him and Aziraphale is enjoying it-- oh, he is _never_ getting over of the taste of Crowley's tongue working between his lips and tracing over the flats of his teeth. It's not like anything he's ever tasted before, nothing has ever been as scrumptious as Crowley is, in this moment.

They usually make it about this far, though, before it seems to fall apart. And, right on time, as soon as they start pressing up closer and closer together, closer to getting more, Crowley does what he usually does.

Like a wave retreating back into the ocean, Crowley pulls back.

Aziraphale knows the look on his face, the way his brows do that nervous twitch as they knit together. He practically dances in place, shifting his weight from foot to foot, clearly not knowing what to do with himself.

Aziraphale tries to offer an olive branch. "Tonight was--"

"No!" Crowley... well, _whinges_ \-- rather pathetically, if Aziraphale must be honest. He watches Crowley step back from him fully, swearing up and down to himself as he furiously rakes his hands through his hair; it's not quite long enough for him to just grab and yank his frustrations out on it anymore. "No, no, no-- it's not supposed to end like this! This is pathetic!"

Aziraphale hesitates with his hands, unsure if reaching out to him physically is the best method of continuing this conversation (if it can even be called that). "It's not pathetic," he insists, voice firm but still projecting the warmth that is always there, when it's for Crowley. "Don't look at me like that. It is _not_ pathetic."

"Right, so it's completely suitable for me to insist all that blubbering horseshit about how we've forged our own side and then I can't--" He grunts, hands over his face. "It feels-- I should be singing a thousand praises for getting the chance to even, to _sully_ a--"

Aziraphale is shaking his head, and this time he does reach for Crowley, but only to set a calming hand on his forearm. He waits for Crowley to stop struggling with his words, falling silent, before he tries to speak some reason into him.

"Now," he starts slowly, gently, but very rational, "There are certainly some... ideas that the two of us have regarding one another and our respective statuses. I think that's to be expected, of course--"

Crowley snorts, but he does give a resigned nod.

Aziraphale continues, "But, I also think that it's only you and I here. And while we certainly aren't of the option of changing what we _are_ , I think... we-- as in, you and I specifically-- are also something _else_ , on top of all of that. Would you say so?"

Crowley looks a little less snarky, a little more genuine as he nods this time. Aziraphale feels his heart give a very treacherous flutter, which he attempts to set right with a quick clearing of his throat.

"Right. So, I think we... are very much inclined to... indulge. Perhaps we should think of it as a... mutual temptation? After all, it very much requires the _two_ of us to forge such a relationship that might lead to-- ...well." Aziraphale feels his face getting hot. "You know."

"And you want to?" Crowley asks, very pointedly. "You know."

Aziraphale smiles. "Do you?"

He watches Crowley give him this... look. He isn't sure what to make of it at first, the way he shuts his eyes and sucks his teeth, almost like he's in pain, or unbearably annoyed. But then he looks back to Aziraphale, eyes wide as he very slowly and with great exaggeration, nods his agreement.

"I was _so_ hoping you'd say that," Aziraphale says warmly. He dares to lean in, a bit too close for mere conversation, and adds, "I very much enjoy kissing you, my darling. You always leave so soon-- _too_ soon."

Crowley seems to still be at odds with himself. Aziraphale can see his teeth clenched hard, the knot of his brow as his hand twitches for Aziraphale, but he forces it to stay at his own side. He feels Crowley turn to speak very close to his ear, sounding horribly desperate, "Ask me to stay, then."

Aziraphale smiles a knowing, triumphant smile.

"Would you like to stay the night, my dear Crowley?"

Crowley makes an explosive sigh, which sounds an awful lot like his restraint finally snapping like a too-tight rubber band. "Yes, yes, sodding yes, you hideously-wonderful thing--"

Aziraphale laughs, reaching to cup Crowley's jaw and guide him in close again. He is oozing temptation, likely not of his own accord, Aziraphale thinks; he's certainly asked about all of Crowley's tempting before, which, when it is directed at Aziraphale, never seems to be purposeful. Aziraphale can't quite understand that-- it's not as if he is something, well... _desirable_ , he believes, but apparently Crowley begs to differ.

They're kissing again. Aziraphale is consumed with the wonderous taste of Crowley. His kisses are deep and passionate, but there is a curb of hesitation there; which is not for lack of want. He has never been shy about how much he wants from Aziraphale ("You give me a single look and I want to kiss you absolutely stupid, Angel."), but he never takes when he is not allowed. It is a result of their mutual friendship, their careful balance of give and take when appropriate.

This is appropriate, Aziraphale assures himself as he slides his hands down Crowley's lapels, curling hsi fingers in just so in order to pull him close. He has to guide Crowley to slot their bodies together, and Aziraphale nearly chokes on Crowley's tongue when he feels the evidence of Crowley's excitement pushing up against him.

"Oh my," Aziraphale chuckles, breathless, and licks the taste of Crowley from his lips as they part. "I-- I suppose I wasn't expecting--"

"What?" Crowley's voice gives a very humorous crack-- or, well, it would be humorous if Crowley didn't look like he were going to faint at the implication of Aziraphale not expecting... whatever he assumes the angel was not expecting.

Aziraphale hurries to correct himself, lest Crowley melt into a puddle of self-doubt. "No, no-- I meant, I wasn't expecting you to be so-- so, ehm, _excitable_. By me. With me?"

Crowley stares at Aziraphale, stunned. "What the absolutely-plastered bollocks do you think I've been talking about regarding the things you do to me, Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale isn't sure what to say to that. He finds himself issuing a shy smile as his shoulders lift in a quite shrug.

Perhaps this isn't the answer Crowley was looking for. The demon gives a long sigh, pained, and shakes his head as he pushes his face into Aziraphale's neck (which is something divine, Aziraphale thinks with a stifled shiver; his face is so warm and, oh, he's so easy to hold when he's huddled against Aziraphale like this, it's perfectly lovely).

"Are angels allowed to be so stupid?" Crowley mumbles against him.

"Only the ones that fraternize with the fallen of their own free will, I do so believe."

Crowley pulls back, grimace on his face. "That is not sexy."

Aziraphale laughs, flustered. "I wasn't aware it was supposed to be! Is calling me stupid meant to inspire my unadulterated lust for you?"

Crowley rolls his eyes. "Let's go back to snogging, that was doing _wonders_ for me."

Aziraphale smiles, but he does not comment; he very much likes the idea of getting back to where they left off. They both lean in for the kiss this time, and oh, it's even more amazing when Crowley is pulling his weight, less hindered by his own entangling thoughts about Aziraphale and kissing and-- ...well.

"L-let's move upstairs," Aziraphale blurts out when Crowley has started laying kisses against the corner of his mouth and all along his jaw and chin. He tries to move to start guiding them, but Crowley seems too eager for that; the world shifts for a moment, without Crowley's lips leaving him, and they are suddenly there together in Aziraphale's cozy bedroom in the flat above his beloved shop.

The second his head stops reeling from so much happening at once, Aziraphale reaches to push at Crowley's coat. Immediately Crowley's shoulders pop back and the coat is shed, dropping to the floor. It seems that it only takes the removal of the one coat to set them both into a frenzy, hands nervous and greedy and excited as they reach for each other's clothes, fumbling with buttons and zippers.

Crowley is losing layers far faster than Aziraphale, who has lost his overcoat, but is still wearing his (ancient) vest, his shirt still neatly tucked into his trousers.

"Not fair, not fair," Crowley grumbles, dutifully undoing each button of Aziraphale's vest. Aziraphale takes pity on him, gently nudging his hands away in favor of working at his buttons much faster than an excited Crowley can. He undoes his bowtie too before it all comes off, and the nakedness hits Aziraphale rather abruptly (and he's only missing his shirt, while Crowley is down to his briefs!).

Crowley seems to pick up on Aziraphale's stunned silence, seizing the moment to slide up close with something akin to tenderness. He brings a hand to sit, very gently, at Aziraphale's side, touching him for the sake of touching him.

"All good?"

Aziraphale chuckles, a bit breathless. "I-- yes, yes. I merely-- well, I think I understand the mess Adam and Eve found themselves in, now. It's certainly..." He sucks in a breath, nodding with great understanding. "Yes. It's completely understandable."

Crowley hesitates. "A _bad_ mess?"

Aziraphale shakes his head. "Of course not. It's what's brought you and I together like this now, isn't it?"

"Fuckin' bless their hearts," Crowley hisses through a grin, sliding his hands to Aziraphale's belt. He wriggles it undone, sliding it through the loops to toss aside. He pauses when his hands go back to Aziraphale's fly, looking to the angel in question, who can see the pause on Crowley's lovely, lovely face.

Aziraphale clears his throat. "Go on. It's quite alright."

Crowley's eyes flick down between them and slowly, he works at Aziraphale's fly. He undoes his pants very carefully, as if he is at risk of harming him, and it only takes a little pushing before they, and his underwear, are pooled down at his feet. Aziraphale tips his head back, unsure of what else to do aside from hope, hope, hope this isn't going to be another of those gigantic mistakes he is prone to making--

Fuck. Crowley is definitely staring at him, definitely looking over every inch of him, and Aziraphale is dying to know what he's thinking. He does not dare to look at Crowley, not directly, forcing his eyes up to the ceiling as he waits for something, anything from Crowley.

"The bed."

Aziraphale pulls his gaze down from the ceiling to look to Crowley, brows furrowed.

Crowley nudges him. "Sit. I want to-- fuck, _shit_ , I don't know what I want to do. Everything. Whatever I can, whatever you'll let me--"

Aziraphale finds himself stunned enough that he steps out of the puddle of his clothes without question, seating himself on the edge of his bed. It is not a very extravagant bed, but it is large, with very comfortable duvets and plush pillows. Rustic and homey-looking, and Aziraphale thinks quietly to himself that Crowley seems to fit in well here, too.

Crowley stands before him for a moment, seeming unsure about where to put himself, but Aziraphale politely clears this throat, aiming his gaze to Crowley's briefs.

"You should," he nods at his underwear, "you should get those off, too. So we're... you know."

Crowley scrambles to all but rip them off, and Aziraphale feels horrible, but all he can do is _stare_. Not in a bad way, never, but it's just so... _interesting_. And exciting. And... very good-looking. If a cock can be described as such (and Aziraphale has seen a few in his time to allow him to pass judgement, he thinks).

"What?"

Aziraphale shakes his head quickly, offering a smile. "No, it's nothing bad! I quite like it. You, I mean. You are... very lovely."

Crowley looks less like he wants to sprint out the door and never come back. He even shifts his hips a little, as if trying to portray his good side (can a cock have a good side?) to Aziraphale. "You think so?"

"Yes. Very much so."

"You're not bad looking yourself, Angel."

Aziraphale smiles. "I should hope not. I quite like this body of mine."

"I quite like it, too," Crowley says, and Aziraphale supposes it's meant to be a lecherous comment, but the sincerity in which he says it is too endearing. Aziraphale smiles, sitting himself up a bit straighter as he takes in a long, slow breath.

"So," he says, admiring Crowley. "What next?"

"I wanted to..." Crowley trails off, nodding towards Aziraphale's crotch. "You know."

Aziraphale furrows his brow. "Well, yes, I assumed that would be the, ah... general theme of the evening."

"What? No. I mean--" Crowley winces. " _Yes_ , of course it is. I'm talking about-- I want to suck your cock."

Aziraphale breathes out a small, "Oh," in reply, looking to Crowley with wide eyes. "I. Well. I am, ah, certainly not... averse to that. If you would so like to, of course."

Crowley is already dropping to his knees with a horribly loud bang against the wood floor, but he doesn't even seem to flinch at it. He is too busy crawling towards his prize, which involves parting Aziraphale's legs. He slides his hands up Aziraphale's calves and over his thighs, giving them a gentle squeeze as he looks up to him, practically oozing desire.

Aziraphale is thoroughly tempted, to say the least. His cock gives a twitch of interest.

"Please," he hears Crowley whisper in a voice that is not entirely like him. Aziraphale looks to see the way Crowley presses his nose into Aziraphale's plump thigh, breath hot against Aziraphale's skin.

Aziraphale, possessed by some sheer desire in his heart, reaches to stroke his fingers through Crowley's hair.

"Yes," he says softly. "Please."

Crowley nods, eager to please it seems, and turns his attention to Aziraphale's cock. It is a plump, lovely thing, Crowley thinks as he curls his slender fingers around the shaft. He gives him a few tentative strokes, looking up to watch Aziraphale's face as he touches him; he wants to be good, he needs it to be good for him, or he'll just _die_.

Aziraphale's face is gorgeous, Crowley thinks, when he's got his hand on his dick.

He pumps him for awhile, stroking him slow and steady, enjoying the feel of Aziraphale's member against the palm of his own hand. It's so naughty. It's so delicious. He leans in to press an open-mouthed kiss to the head of it and nearly cums from the soft noise of pleasure Aziraphale makes from the attention.

"Oh my," Aziraphale whispers, thrilled and endeared, and his fingers lace into Crowley's hair. Crowley thinks he would really enjoy feeling Aziraphale hold him by the base of his skull while he sucks him off, so much so that he decides to start taking Aziraphale's cock between his lips, cradling the underside of it with his tongue.

Aziraphale groans a delicious sound at that, his thighs trembling as he gives a tentative roll of his hips. Crowley can't help but reach down to touch himself, eyes falling shut as he focuses on the feeling of Aziraphale in his mouth, the smell of him, the warmth that's all around him. He thinks that if Aziraphale were to squeeze his legs together and choke him to death like this, well, that would be just fine.

"Crowley," Aziraphale murmurs, and he starts petting through Crowley's short hair. It's amazing. It's so loving and soft and warm-- is this really what Crowley deserves? A demon, a wicked menace, the first snake of mankind, here before such a lovely, kind, service-driven angel? His head is reeling. He isn't sure if he wants to cum or cry. Something in between, maybe.

"Lovely," Aziraphale pants. "Lovely, lovely-- you're doing so lovely."

Oh.

Crowley really likes that.

He speeds up, earnest. He wants Aziraphale to cum, he wants to feel it slide down his throat and feel Aziraphale fuck into his mouth and maybe later Aziraphale can actually fuck him-- oh, fuck, that's a good thought too. Crowley is jerking himself off to the mere idea of Aziraphale feeling any kind of pleasure with Crowley here at his service, desperate to make him feel even a fraction as good as Aziraphale treats him all the time.

"Crowley," Aziraphale says with a bit more urgency, a little more desperation, "I'm-- oh my heavens, Crowley-- I-- _ah_!"

Crowley pushes down far, until he's nearly choking, his mouth is completely full and he's close to the base of Aziraphale's cock. He squeezes his eyes tight, massaging his tongue against him, and his hand cups at Aziraphale's sac to give him all he could need--

Aziraphale cums with a gasp. His hips push up into Crowley's face entirely on their own, his hand laced tight in Crowley's hair. Crowley hangs on tight to Aziraphale in turn, eager to swallow him down and take what he's given. Fuck. He didn't expecting being on his knees like this to be as sexy as it is, but surely this is only the case with Aziraphale; there is no one else Crowley wants to kneel like this before, no one who respects him as much as Aziraphale does.

"Oh, oh," Aziraphale murmurs as he comes down from it. His face is flushed bright red, and there's maybe a bit of sweat on his brow. His legs feel wobbly, even though he's already seated, and he loosens his grip in Crowley's hair, petting it back from his face.

Crowley rests his cheek against Aziraphale's pale thigh, licking his spit-slicked lips. They're a little swollen from the effort, but he looks pleased as punch with his handiwork; Aziraphale suspects he should feel embarrassed, but all he feels is... happy.

"You like it?"

"I rather enjoyed myself, yes," Aziraphale admits. He strokes his thumb against Crowley's brow. "Is it my turn now, to discover what you enjoy?"

Crowley nods, practically squirming on his knees. He tries to think of what he wants, but the only thing he can think of is the feeling of Aziraphale over him, pushing his cock inside him and whispering all those horridly-adorable sweet nothings into his ear. The thought is so sappy but still so sexy, Crowley is both disgusted and irrevocably horny over it.

"What shall I do with you, darling?"

Crowley runs his teeth over his lower lip, rubbing at his chin. He has to at least _pretend_ to think about it, or it might be suspicious if he blurts out how badly he wants Aziraphale to fuck him into next Sunday.

"It might be jumping the gun, but I was thinking more of... moving onto the main event," Crowley suggests, arching a curious brow to Aziraphale. "Should you be inclined, of course." He feigns casual by propping his elbow on Aziraphale's thigh, cradling his chin.

"Oh my," Aziraphale whispers, practically sounding giddy. "So soon?"

"Don't wound my pride," Crowley sighs. "It isn't my fault that I've managed to become completely enamored with this unbelievably gorgeous angel who keeps me filling my head with all sorts of debaucherously thoughts. And now he's letting me act on them? How could I resist the temptation?"

Aziraphale scoffs. "I am not tempting you, don't be silly."

"All you _do_ is tempt me!" Crowley insists, incredulous. "You're nothing but kind to me, you respect me-- even when I'm down on my knees like a fucking servant, you--"

"Apologies for my interruption, my dear Crowley, but are you saying my kindness arouses you?"

Crowley cuts himself off, embarrassment stealing away his voice for a moment. He coughs, rubbing at his nose. "I was being subtle about it," he grumbles, on high alert for Aziraphale's response to the admittance.

"I see," Aziraphale hums, his voice full of its usual, honeyed warmth. He cards his fingers through Crowley's hair, moving his hand to cup Crowley's slender cheek. "Why don't you come up here then, my dear? Let me give you some attention."

Crowley obeys, because why wouldn't he? He moves up to his feet, taking a moment to stretch out while Aziraphale makes more room on the bed for the both of them. It feels like some kind of rite of passage, some kind of special privilege, to climb into Aziraphale's bed with the man himself. Crowley moves to lie down right up against him, reaching a hand to pet along the soft curve of his jaw, the tendon of his neck.

Aziraphale smiles, kissing just at the tip of Crowley's nose. "Wonderful, wonderful. However," he adds, and this he says with a bit of embarrassment, "I am remiss to inform you that I am... not of a breed to indulge in this kind of thing, so I'm shamefully underprepared--"

Crowley practically bounces back off the bed, stumbling over to his pile of clothes. He digs around in his trouser pockets, then stuffs his fists into his coat pockets instead, tossing a chain of slender, foil packages towards Aziraphale on the bed, then a bottle that lands on the bedding with a dull noise.

" 'Rear Entry'? Oh, Crowley--" Aziraphale tuts. Crowley smirks, watching the other turn over the bottle in his hands, giving it a skim-over.

"Beggars can't be choosers, Angel," Crowley nearly sing-songs at him, eager to climb back on the bed. He wriggles himself up close to him, propping his chin in his hand as he watches Aziraphale look minorly unhappy with the vulgar wording; he isn't a fan of the unnecessarily crass.

Aziraphale looks to Crowley, unable to stop a small smile on his lips. "You're perfectly dreadful," he chuckles, lowering the bottle from his face. He eyes Crowley mirthfully, interested, and adds, "I think I see what you meant about all that temptation earlier."

"Why, am I tempting you?"

"Hush," Aziraphale chuckles, nudging at Crowley gently with the bottle of lube, perhaps to hand it off to him. Crowley very pointedly does not take it, and after a moment, Aziraphale's amusement turns to absolute bewilderment.

"You want _me_ to...?"

Crowley rolls his eyes. "What is it with you and making me state the obvious, Aziraphale? Do you _want_ me to die of embarrassment? 'Cause that's going to be a hell of a pain for you than it is for me-- you'll have to wait for me to get all recombobulated again and there's _no_ way I'll be in the mood for anything more than a minor cuddle if that happens, and--"

"Alright, alright, you've made your point," Aziraphale secedes. "I was merely surprised you-- well, wanted that. For all your pomp and circumstance..."

"Yeahyeahyeah," Crowley lets out in one breath, "I'm unpredictable, sure, let's just-- go back to where it was getting good, yes?"

Aziraphale laughs at that, a genuine sweetheart kind of laugh. Crowley finds his heart in danger of exploding with affection, so he keeps mum and waits for Aziraphale to roll close to him, bringing them nose-to-nose.

"Lovely," Aziraphale hums, skirting a hand over Crowley's side. Crowley shivers at the attention, squirming as he moves onto his side. His cock sits hard against his belly, neglected and daring to flag from the lack of attention, but Aziraphale finally giving him his focus is enough to turn him on.

Aziraphale leans in for a kiss, all slow and soft. Their lips pillow together, it is such a tender thing to take part in, especially for Crowley. He distantly hears the bottle clicking, being squeezed, then feels Aziraphale whisper right up against his lips, "Lift a leg for me, darling."

Crowley props a foot up against the bed, legs open for Aziraphale's advances. He tries not to focus too much on Aziraphale's hand that curls up behind his balls, fingers rubbing smoothly over his hole, because he definitely doesn't want to lose it over some fingering, not when he can have the whole damn thing. He shivers, moves a hand to his mouth to lazily bite a knuckle, and Aziraphale kisses the meat of his palm. It's so tender that Crowley moans, a soft little sound that makes Aziraphale light up.

"There's no need to silence yourself," Aziraphale soothes quietly, speaking rather casually as he presses his fingers inside of Crowley. The demon in his arms writhes happily, arching into the touch with a loud sigh of delight. "Go ahead. You made me feel so wonderful, let me take care of you now."

Crowley really does moan at that, quiet but extremely needy. He needs, he really does-- if he doesn't get to feel Aziraphale fucking into him sometime soon, he seriously might die. He can't recall the last time he's felt this needy, but Aziraphale's fingers are there, pumping into him and pulling horribly-pathetic noises from his mouth, little moans and gasps and rocks of his hips into Aziraphale's hand.

"There you go," Aziraphale murmurs against the corner of his mouth, still kissing him when he can speak. "Did you still want me to--?"

" _Yes_!" Crowley wheezes. "Damn it all to Heaven and right back to Hell, yesyesyes!"

Aziraphale hums at that, leaning in to grant him another kiss, mostly to soothe his need. "Soon enough, love," he assures. He pulls back his fingers, which makes Crowley moan more out of frustration than anything. He is impatient, but why wouldn't he be? Everything he wants is _right here_ , he doesn't want to wait another Heaven-damned second to have it.

Aziraphale nods; it's getting to him too. He very much likes the look of Crowley like this, when he's too pleasured to stay still and all he's able to do with much skill is moan and whinge and writhe. Not that he wants Crowley to go without-- he is just as much looking forward to giving him what he's asking for-- but Crowley is just so... extravagant. It's such a treat, touching him like this, getting to know him like this. Aziraphale has never been this close to someone in his thousands of years.

He readies himself. A foil packet is ripped from the chain (which must be dug out from somewhere underneath the both of them; it takes a shuffle to get it out) and Aziraphale takes a moment to examine the handiwork of mankind before he makes use of the thing-- after all, this is what the humans do, so Aziraphale would be for naught if he did not make use of a condom, too.

He slicks his hand again, to slide it over himself (he's already ready to go again, oh, the things Crowley does to his anatomy) and the rest against Crowley's hole again. Crowley's lips curl in a silent _ah_ at the touch, and Aziraphale smiles as he leans in, brushing his nose to Crowley's cheek.

"Is this still what you want?"

"You perfect fucking bastard," Crowley swears viciously, his hands reaching to wrench onto Aziraphale, anchoring him close. "If you don't get on with it already, I'm going to lose my pissing mind. _Yes_ , Aziraphale!" He all but shouts. "I want _you_!"

Only Crowley could endear him with such profanity. Aziraphale nods, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I'm glad to hear it," he hums, perfectly content as he slides his way home.

They both groan out in tandem, though Crowley's groan is far more needy; maybe Aziraphale spent too much time teasing him. His whole body seems to move with his breaths, and Aziraphale struggles not to pant right in his ear as he holds himself up. He moves slow, unsure of where to start, but there's something that tells him that moving even a little is enough for now. It's so tight and so warm, he is totally lost in every second of just _feeling_ Crowley.

Crowley's hands reach up over Aziraphale's shoulders, grabbing on tight. His legs hook up around him, legs that are so slender but apparently very strong when it comes to gripping around Aziraphale's waist, hardly allowing him to shift his hips back to push inside him again. Rather, Crowley sees to it that he ruts Aziraphale from underneath him, setting the pace. Aziraphale follows his lead, thrusting in accommodation, and that seems to blow Crowley's mind.

Crowley is an absolute mess once Aziraphale gives him what he wants. It is a pleasure to see him fall apart, his brows screwed up together as he tips his head back from Aziraphale's kisses in order to _really_ moan out. His hands are moving everywhere, all over Aziraphale, wherever he can touch; in his hair, around his neck, over his shoulders, cupping his ass. Aziraphale has never felt so... sought after, really. It is a _very_ seductive feeling, to say the least.

"Fuck, Angel," Crowley pants, his chest heaving. "Don't you dare ever stop--"

Aziraphale _mmm_ 's against him, moving his kisses to Crowley's throat. He laves at his neck, feeling the tendons flex when Crowley moves his head or moans out at a particularly nice thrust.

"Right there-- _ah_ , fuck, _perfect_ , you're _perfect_ \--"

"Lovely, absolutely lovely."

"Don't stop--"

"Never." Aziraphale punctuates this with a particularly rough grind. Crowley cries out a loud noise, a hand slapping up to the headboard to grapple onto it. He starts up a chorus of fuck, fuck, fuck on every downstroke, and while Aziraphale might want to tease him for it, the sentiment goes double. He feels his orgasm ramping up again, and it takes a moment for him to figure out how to worm an arm down between them to get a hand around Crowley's cock between their stomachs.

" _Oh_! That-- oh fuck, yes, yes--"

"Good?"

Crowley nods, the movement quick, stiff, and frenzied. "Yeah-- _ah_ , fuck. Fuck me--"

Aziraphale huffs out a laugh at the ironic obscenity but is too distracted to make much of it. Crowley is too much, is everything Aziraphale wants, and they move together so excellently, a perfect tandem. He moans into Crowley's neck as he pushes in to the base and lets Crowley rut himself freely against him.

When Crowley cums, it's with a shout that is babbling nonsense and many swears. He writhes, grinding against Aziraphale's cock and against the angel's hand wrapped lovingly around him. He pants heavily, moving and squirming and wiggling, and distantly hears himself whispering, "Do it, do it, Aziraphale, _please_ \--" until Aziraphale buries his head against him and cums with a shiver and a gasp.

Aziraphale lies over him when it's finished, comfortable in the curve of Crowley's neck. He feels Crowley's legs loosen around his hips, but they still remain half-circled around him. Crowley's hands smooth over his back, through his hair, with the shell of his ear. Every touch is gentle, barely-there, but Aziraphale cherishes what he's given.

"You'll have to get up," Crowley rumbles after a good while of laying around. "You'll leave me crippled if my legs stay spread much longer."

Aziraphale takes pity and pulls himself up. It is a very lazy clean up for the two of them before the covers are pulled down on the bed. They lay side by side, not necessarily cuddling, but there is still something very intimate about it, laying together and listening to each other's breaths.

"Things will still be the way they were," Aziraphale says, "won't they?"

Crowley turns to look at him, a smirk on his lips. "I'd be absolutely shitting myself if one night of good sex could change thousands of years of history, Angel."

"What are you saying?"

Crowley rolls his eyes fondly. "I'm _saying_ that you're you, and I'm me. And we're... whatever we usually are. Maybe with more sex thrown in, if it were to your liking."

Aziraphale smiles to himself. "I am certainly not opposed to the idea. I dare say you have a deal, my dear Crowley."

" _Mm_ ," Crowley hums, a low rumble in his chest, as if he's just eaten a particularly delicious sweet. "I quite like the sound of that."


End file.
